NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | updates every monday

13: to do: learn to cry in a sexy way

            'She's well fit. You'd be well into her,' Caleb says as he unlocks the employee entrance to Spectrum. After Bumble failed to produce a single person he deemed good enough to match with, Caleb started linking me with everyone he's ever met in real life, presently Annalise's replacement.

'Just because I'm pansexual–' I cut myself off when I follow in after him. 'Joe. Hi.'

The greeting leaves my throat in a high-pitched flutter. She's sitting on the barstool left in the corridor because the lever is broken and Sasha hasn't got around to fixing it (it's been two years), with one of Sasha's many binders open in her lap. My face scorches when she looks up.

Are my eyes still red from crying?

Caleb's stare swings from me to her and back. 'You know each other?' The disbelief is unfiltered in his voice.

I would've told him if I met someone so fit, even if we never talked, even if I didn't drive her home. That's frequent in the group chat: "Yous should've seen the worker at Tesco. When I tell you the eyeliner was sym👏🏾met👏🏾ri👏🏾cal!" or "Just fainted over his person on the bus. Imagine Jason Momoa and Dev Patel had a child who got a lot of tattoos". And then Rishi sends vomit emojis over the concept of sexual attraction.

'I recommended her for the job, actually.'

The tooth gems make Joe's smile sparkle. 'Only cause you got me sacked from my original one.'

This irritates Caleb more. 'You got someone sacked? And you didn't tell me? I thought we were best mates.' With a theatrical scoff, he storms off into the dressing room.

I grin at his dramatic retreat until I realise he's left me alone with Joe in an incredibly narrow corridor. She's wearing an Arlo Parks tour t-shirt and cargo shorts that are probably from the men's section, which is mint for me cause if they were any shorter I'd probably have an aneurysm if the way her thighs fill them in is owt to go by.

Definitely a good thing I can't see the dark skin and imagine what my fingers would look like pressed into it, prying her thighs apart–

'Nicolás!'

I snap my attention to Sasha.

Sasha's Russian accent is so strong I'm sure he's putting it on at this point considering he's lived here for forty years. 'What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on holiday till Monday.'

'I've nowt else to do...'

It's pathetic. I stare intently at Sasha to not have to look at Joe. Yeah, I'm a twenty-three-year-old with nowt better to do on a Friday night than cut lemons without even being on shift. I suppose I could go to the gym but I always go with Eilidh now and she'll be here for Caleb's show. Guess I could sit and watch my plants grow, check if any frogs have moved into the pond for the third time today.

Sasha huffs. 'Oh, alright then. But I'm paying you. Don't even try to convince me otherwise.' He jabs a finger at me and I swallow my "but I'm not supposed to be on shift" objection, then gestures at Joe. 'Since you're here, you can train Joe.'

'I were gonna cut some lemons.'

'How many lemons do you need to cut?'

'With Fresher's Week starting Monday, probably a lot–'

Sasha waves a hand to silence. 'Train Joe. Then you can cut lemons together: double speed.'

That is just champion. Thanks Universe!

Sasha recedes into his cupboard of an office and we're alone again. I keep my focus strictly above the neck as I turn to her, tucking my hands into my pockets. Joe's wearing colourful eyeliner again, sunset shades picked from the graphic of her t-shirt. The rest of her skin is bare.